


Lovino's Plastic Baby Nightmare

by rae1112



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Everyone is an idiot, F/M, M/M, Prussia/South Italy is really minor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4078603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rae1112/pseuds/rae1112
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The All-Boys Weston Academy wants to prepare all of its students for future fatherhood. The students are not impressed. Especially Lovino, who has the mothering instinct of a bat. </p><p>In which Feliciano loses his cool, Alfred has a knack for babysitting, and nearly all the boys fail the “taking care of a baby” assignment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm starting a new story. And I'm almost done with University. Will I be better about updating? We'll see (this should be relatively short).
> 
> Essentially I think at 18-years old most of the Hetalia characters would make terrible fathers, and I want to pursue this plot without any damage to real babies.

“Alright, you charming young nincompoops, listen up,” Mr. Bielschmidt—their relatively new health-class teacher (and Ludwig’s older brother, as everyone soon found out)—said, “You knew this day was coming. You all knew. It’s been on the syllabus since day one. In fact, it’s been on the syllabus for _decades_. And for good reason; nobody wants to see deadbeat, useless dads in this generation, ja?” The students held their breaths, collectively wondering whether Mr. Bielschmidt would overshare yet again about his and Ludwig’s emotionally dysfunctional family. Thankfully, he did not. Instead he bent underneath his desk and dragged out a rather large cardboard box. “Any last words?”

Lovino buried his face in his arms. He hated most teachers about an equal amount, but today, he hated Mr. Bielschmidt a little more. When he had been hired earlier in the year, the whole class had expected him to scrap the dreaded ‘baby’ assignment, because he was generally a cool guy, more concerned with smoking weed behind the dumpsters after school than giving his students an ethical backbone. Alas, even he was prone to tradition. At the thought, the resentment in Lovino’s heart grew further. 

Pathetically enough, the ‘baby’ assignment really had been on the Weston Academy syllabus for decades. It had been rather unconventional, especially when it first showed up in their curriculum, because they were an all-boys school, and a sizable amount of conservative parents had complained about how ‘queer’ it all was. The principle at the time had insisted, however, that it would only promote strong moral character. Eventually his reasoning had won out, and the academy went forth with assigning ‘partners’ a baby to take care of. Not a real baby, of course. A plastic one, which would cry unless you took proper care of it. It was supposed to instill some fatherly sense of virtue in all the students. And that’s all Lovino really remembered from Mr. Bielschmidt’s bullshit explanation of this class’ history.

“Need me to explain the instructions again?” Mr. Bielschmidt asked, lifting the heavy box onto his desk. He pulled out a baby and held it up. It was missing an arm. “Remember, don’t worry about the damage that already exists. Just make sure you don’t do anything additionally harmful.” 

“Gilbert,” an obnoxious voice called out from the back of the class, and Lovino winced. Only Alfred Jones was enough of a jackass to call his teachers by their first names. “I don’t really see the point of this, man. And I feel like no one’s going to notice if you just don’t assign it?”

“Au contraire, mon cher,” Mr. Bielschmidt replied in a terrible imitation of French, which was a testament to how much he hung around Mr. Bonnefoy, “They will notice. This assignment is tradition, and I will not be the one to break it! Not to mention, in this generation of Google-y phones and smart apples, it’s probably good for you to take care of something incapable of looking at a screen.” Lovino rolled his eyes and the rest of the class groaned collectively.

“Yes, well I don’t feel comfortable being partnered in this way with another student,” their Chinese exchange student, Yao Wang, interrupted. “My father would not be pleased with implication—“

“ _That’s homophobic!!_ ” someone interrupted, and the whole class erupted in argument. Lovino, as a closeted gay man and an open Catholic, always tried to keep his head down during these discussions. They came up surprisingly often for a health class. 

“SETTLE DOWN!” Mr. Bielschmidt roared and, miraculously, the class quieted. Yao shuffled a little uncomfortably in his seat, “Jesus, can we just get through this?! It’s the last period of the fu—of the gosh-darned day, and it’s almost over—I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to! Yao,” he said, turning to address the Chinese boy, “I know it’s a little different here than where you’re from, but just tell your family that this is a pretty sizeable chunk of your grade, they should cut you some slack, okay?” With some reluctance, Yao nodded, and Mr. Bielschmidt clapped his hands together in sarcastic delight.

“ _Alright then_ ,” he began, with an exasperated voice, “Here’s the rules, one more time. You will each be partnered up. Try your best not to get sick these next few days, because your partner will have to pick up your slack, and that is _no bueno_ ,” he turned back to his desk and picked up another baby, this one dark skinned with no legs, “Each partnership will receive a baby. Even the ones with the missing limbs work, so don’t try to pull any bullshi—anything, okay? They are ALL functional.” He dropped the baby back into the box. “Your objective is to take care of this baby. Treat it like you would your own child. Feed it, change it, etc. It has some sensitive technology, so it will NOT stop crying until you properly take care of it. If I find you’ve tampered with the baby in any way, you’ll receive an automatic zero.” Lovino saw some of the know-it-alls in the class pale in panic. He almost snickered at their faces. “It’s up to you guys to divide the work however you want, that’s part of the assignment. Any questions?” he turned around, back to the class, conveniently missing the various hands that had gone up. “Great. In that case, I’m calling out partners now. No, you cannot switch partners, no exceptions.” Lovino perked up at this part. Though he wasn’t a try-hard like his brother’s friend Kiku or His-Majesty-President-of-the-Student-Council Arthur Kirkland, he nevertheless needed a good grade on this to pass the health class. No one could say Mr. Bielschmidt was an easy grader.

“Remember, these are totally random. First off, Ludwig and Feliciano.”

These were absolutely not random. Lovino glared intensely at Mr. Bielschmidt’s retreating back. He knew how much Lovino hated Ludwig, and now the potato-bastard would have a reason to hang around Lovino and Feliciano’s house all day! It was infuriating! And Lovino could swear he saw Mr. Bielschmidt send a nasty smirk his way.

“Next up, Alfred and Arthur.” At this announcement, the whole class jeered, including Lovino (he could get caught up in the moment too, okay?!), and Arthur and Alfred looked confusedly at each other. The two were arguably the most popular students at their school, though they somehow ran in completely different social circles. Lovino himself was a lot closer to Arthur, though that wasn’t saying much, as Arthur wasn’t particularly “close” to anyone. He had a lot of friends ( _tryhards_ Lovino would scoff as yet another boy asked Arthur just _how_ he managed to keep his accent so authentic) but he didn’t particularly seem to like any of them. Essentially, he was a douchebag. But Alfred Jones was an even bigger one, and they deserved each other.

(At least they didn’t have the problem that Lovino did. Both boys were heterosexual to a fault, serially dating just about every girl from Weston’s sister school across town. This project for them would be just that—a project. Lovino, meanwhile, had at one time or another had a crush on every boy in this health class - _including_ both Alfred and Arthur and, mortifyingly, Mr. Bielschmidt - so no matter who he was paired with, it would be a tremendously awkward affair.) 

“Guys, can we be adults for five seconds,” Mr. Bielschmidt groaned as he handed off one of the more functional looking babies to Arthur, “Too much to ask for? Great. Anyway, next is Yao and Ivan.” 

A few boys jeered again, and Lovino observed Yao’s horror-struck face as he looked back at Ivan Braginsky, who was leaning back in his chair at the back of the classroom, creepily alert as usual. There weren’t many people who Lovino felt sorry for, but he supposed that now Yao was counted among them.

“Right,” Mr. Bielschmidt continued, “Here you go Yao, sorry it’s missing an ear, I don’t know how they managed to do that last year. Actually…Arthur?” He turned to the boy in question, who was already embracing his plastic fake baby like a real child, “Wasn’t your brother the one who had this baby last year?”

“Yes,” Arthur grunted, and everyone in the class laughed, as if he had bestowed upon them some witty joke. Amazing. 

“Anyway, next up…Lovino and Antonio?” Lovino scrunched his eyes together, and ignored the various cackles that sounded through the classroom. Antonio wasn’t the _worst_ partner to have (that honor would go to Ludwig), but he certainly wasn’t the best. Especially because he’d been his go-to crush for Lovino’s entire high school career. He was in every daydream, every fantasy, every… _whatever_. He was certainly in every wet-dream. Lovino recalled a particularly memorable one, where some sort of orgy was set to occur (it seemed like it anyway, there were many men there and they were all naked) and Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones were both shirtless and looking rather randy (Lovino hadn’t been able to look at them in the eyes for _weeks_ ), but then Antonio had appeared out of nowhere and whisked Lovino away to have his dirty way with him in a beautiful cottage in the middle of Spain. It was all very fruity and mushy and embarrassing and Lovino had been having dreams like that ever since.

And now he needed to take care of a _baby_ with the bastard?!

Thankfully, Antonio was absent from class that day, so Lovino was spared his over the top declarations of love for children and babies (and boy did Antonio love children - his biggest ambition in life was to be a father which was…sweet, in a way, Lovino supposed), but it would still be awful and horrible when Lovino DID eventually tell the Spaniard that they’d have to raise a child together for a week. 

He tuned out for the rest of class, vaguely registering some protests and some more jeers are partnerships were announced. He wanted to bury his head in the ground and never come out. Especially when he remembered Ludwig would be inside his _home_ for part of the week. 

\---

Ludwig was, quite honestly, feeling some serious resentment towards his brother at the moment. 

It wasn’t enough that Gilbert had embarrassed him every chance he got when Ludwig was little, shoving him into cakes and into furniture, and on one _very_ memorable occasion convincing an entire room of people that Ludwig behaved _inappropriately_ with the family dogs (it had taken him WEEKS to convince his friends that Gilbert was just fucking around, and yet, he could have sworn Matthew Williams still gave him odd looks from time to time…). 

Now, Gilbert was embarrassing him as a teenager IN SCHOOL. When he’d announced that he would be a teacher at Weston, Ludwig had begged his parents to let him transfer. Of course, as usual, his request was denied, and he was forced to endure Gilbert’s theatrics every day in the dreaded health class. Gilbert CONSTANTLY made references to Bielschmidt family drama, as well as to his harrowed relationship with a Hungarian bank executive, both of which were very inappropriate things to bring up in an educational environment. He was also openly a stoner, and why he wasn’t fired yet, Ludwig didn’t know. The icing on the cake was this baby assignment, which Ludwig now realized Gilbert had used as a torture mechanism.

It was clear in every partnership he announced. Yao was terrified of Ivan, and now they needed to raise a baby. Lovino hated Antonio, and now they needed to raise a baby. Alfred and Arthur were pigheaded _idiots_ , which meant that Alfred would spend a lot of time complaining about Arthur to Ludwig, who made the unfortunate mistake of being Alfred’s best friend...and now THEY needed to raise a baby. And so on.

And as for Feliciano…

“First of all, you know Lovino hates me,“ Ludwig said as they all made their way to the practice football field, doing his best to hold his plastic baby and his gear at the same time, “you _know_ he hates me, remember last year?”

“Nope,” Alfred replied, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously, “I don’t really remember things that happened more than a week ago.” 

“Great,” Ludwig muttered, “Whatever, all you need to know is that one, Lovino hates me. TWO, Feliciano’s grandpa hates me. He thinks I’m uptight and need to get laid.”

“Well…”

“THREE,” Ludwig continued, trying to drown out Alfred’s snickering, “Feliciano has been…kind of weird around me. You remember what I told you about that, ja?”

“Hmm…” Alfred hummed, nodding sagely, “Gay crisis, weird clinginess, got you. Maybe he’s just an affectionate person?” 

“I don’t know…” they finally made it to the locker room, and Ludwig was finally able to drop all the things he was carrying. A little too late, he remembered the baby was among them, and he heard a sickening ‘thud’ before the loud shrieking exploded from the doll.

“Scheisse!” Ludwig shouted, dropping down to pick up the probably damaged baby, “Scheisse, how does it stop crying?!” Alfred was laughing too hysterically to help, and Ludwig glowered at him, forcefully rocking his baby from side to side, “Thanks for your contribution! Where’s your bundle of joy, hm? In the garbage already?”

Alfred wiped his eyes (he had laughed so hard he was _crying_ , Ludwig could just punch him), and took a steadying breath, “I convinced Kirkland to take it for the afternoon. We have to meet up after practice though, and sort everything out.” Ludwig grunted, thanking his lucky stars that even a brutal fall, his baby quieted relatively easily. “Speaking of which…do you know anything about him? Kirkland, I mean?”

Ludwig shrugged, putting his plastic baby down carefully on the bench, “I’m honestly surprised you two don’t know each other. You have so many friends in common.”

“I mean, we’ve spoken,” Alfred said, beginning to undress in that lazy inefficient way of his, “I think we’ve even been to a lot of the same parties. I don’t know, somehow we just never befriended one another. Do you know him?”

“A little,” Ludwig admitted, a little put out that they’d moved so quickly from his issues to Alfred’s, “he’s friends with Feliciano. He seems kind of pissed off most of the time, and I’ve heard he’s air-headed. You’ll have to watch out for that if you want a good grade on this thing.”

“Air-headed?” Alfred scoffed in disbelief, “Uh, I don’t think you get to be air-headed and the President of the school, right?”

“I don’t know Alfred, that’s what Feliciano said,” Ludwig said, tucking his shirt in carefully. He turned to look at the other boy and groaned. Of course, he didn’t even have his pants on yet. “Alfred, come on, are you serious? Hurry the fuck up!”

“Jeez, don’t get all riled up with me man, save it for your baby...and your LOVER!!” At Alfred’s loud taunting, Ludwig’s baby did indeed begin whining again, and Ludwig rued the day Alfred F. Jones was ever born.


	2. Babies in Trash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly, Alfred, and Lovino end up being the functional half of the parenting unit.

Something that had surprised Yao Wang eventually when he got used to his new school was the very odd friendships that formed within. People who shouldn’t have gotten along in a million years were best friends, and people who seemed relatively alike got into spats for inconsequential reasons. When Yao had attempted to befriend students who he seemed compatible with, he was met with resentment and strong dislike - Kiku Honda, for instance, viciously attacked Yao for wearing his Hello Kitty knock-off t-shirt (“It’s not even a good knock-off. It looks like something you buy at an American dollar store. _Disgrace..._ ”) Yao, who didn’t think wearing a slightly non-authentic shirt was that big of a deal, quickly backed off from trying to make friends with similar interests to himself. 

However, as a result, even six months later, he found himself quite friendless and without many allies in the chess game that was American High School. He wasn’t particularly lonely - when he got home, he always had the opportunity to speak to his friends and family in Shanghai - but occasionally, one needed backup for certain obstacles. Like for instance, this very moment. 

Yao was clutching his plastic baby securely and watching the academy’s football team practice. When their health class had ended that day, Mr. Beilschmidt had handed off the baby to Yao with a condescending pat and went off on his way. Meanwhile, Ivan Braginsky, who only acknowledged Yao with a creepy smile, bounced out of class without so much as a glance back. This of course left Yao alone with the plastic nightmare, which began to cry as soon as the last bell rang. 

Now, Yao wasn’t stupid. Clearly, Braginsky thought he could get away with abandoning his partner to do all the work, trusting that Yao’s fear of him and his drive to be the school’s valedictorian would assure Ivan an A with minimal work. And perhaps Yao would have let him get away with it if their baby didn’t cry every five seconds for one reason or another. The Chinese boy had been alone with the baby for only an hour, and already he felt like dumping it in the trash. 

“Ssshh...it’s fine, all is good….” Yao muttered to his fake whiny child, bouncing it in his arms a little harder than was strictly necessary, “Your mommy will take you soon enough, ben dan…” 

By the time Yao had tracked down Ivan, the other boy’s football practice had started, and Yao found that as angry as he was, he couldn’t barge into the middle of a gathering of Weston Academy’s biggest douchebags and demand Ivan take his scumbag baby away. So he was stuck in the stands, holding it close, and attempting not to strangle it with his bare hands. 

“Well, baby, your mommy has talent when it comes to aggressive sports,” Yao said to the lifeless doll, watching as Braginsky tackled Jones with relative ease, “Perhaps he will be scouted and become professional. Then he can support us with a lot of money. I will hire you a babysitter, and they will play with you while daddy goes and spends all of mommy’s money on dumplings and spas…” 

Yao tried not to think about the fact that it was no longer rare for him to have full conversations with himself or with inanimate objects. He’d be as crazy as Arthur Kirkland if he did. 

Having nothing else to do, Yao watched the football practice with great intensity, paying special attention to Ivan. Yao didn’t usually pay attention to Ivan (in fact he did everything in his power to avoid making direct eye-contact), but this was a good opportunity to stare at him without fear of getting beat up. He was interesting looking, to say the least, with hair so blonde it was almost white, and eyes that looked almost...purple most days. He was also GIGANTIC -- easily the tallest in their grade -- and when he wasn’t trying to look like an escaped lunatic, he actually had rather symmetrical and pleasant facial features. He could almost be called handsome, if the fact that he was Ivan Braginsky didn’t stand in the way. 

Realizing where the direction of his thoughts was going, Yao shook his head roughly. There was nothing good about the Russian, except for the fact that he would soon be taking the screaming bundle of joy home with him.

Eventually, the football practice finally ended, and the players began making their way back to their locker room. Yao spotted Ivan horsing around with Jones and Beilschmidt as the three made their way back into the building. Deciding it was now or never, Yao launched himself off the bleachers and ran after them.

“Braginsky!” he shouted, a bit more shrilly than he would have liked, “Braginsky!! Slow down, _aru_ , god damn fuck--”

Eventually he caught up with them. Beilschmidt looked rather confused to see him, while Jones smirked in his smug, egotistical way. Ivan was smiling, like usual, though there seemed to be a bit of a dangerous glint in his eye. 

“Can I help you?” Ivan asked, as if Yao had no business speaking with him. Yao huffed in frustration. He thought the worst situation he could have been in was having Ivan Braginsky as a partner. Now, he feared it was not having a partner at all.

“You ran out of class before we made a schedule, in regards to the baby,” Yao ground out, “Let’s make one now. You can take it the first night, since I have been taking care of it since health class.”

“Ho-ho, look at your wife, cracking the whip!” Jones chortled, both he and Beilschmidt clapping Ivan on the back. Ivan, however, did not look amused. 

“I didn’t think we had to have this conversation,” Ivan said, smile quickly back in place, “I’m not going to look after a noisy toy. You care about the grades, I don’t. Seems straightforward, da?” 

Yao glared up at the taller boy. “No, it is not straightforward!” he said, “This is your assignment too! You can’t just--dump it on me!”

“Listen to me, comra--”

“NO YOU LISTEN!” Yao exploded, “THIS IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY TOO! I don’t care if you don’t want to do it, YOU ARE DOING IT!” he shoved the baby into Ivan’s arms, ignoring Beilschmidt and Jones’ shocked faces, “And you better do it right! Or I-I’ll…” he didn’t really have any good threats available to him, and his heart was pounding a million beats per second, and he felt sweaty and faint, but nevertheless he said, “I’ll make you regret it! Don’t cross me, Braginsky!” Now, all three boys were looking at Yao slackjawed. The shorter boy nodded decisively and tried very hard not to faint, as not to ruin his exit. He stomped past the taller boys, head held high, and stomach churning in absolute instinctual fear. 

Alfred, Ludwig, and Ivan meanwhile all watched him march away, fascinated.

“I think I have to kill him,” Ivan said evenly, and neither of his friends were surprised. 

\---------------

Alfred, meanwhile, decided to avoid the scene that Ivan had just experienced and readied himself to face the music. He bid his friends goodbye after changing and made his way to the student council office, where Arthur Kirkland told him he’d be. Alfred didn’t know too much about Arthur, but he knew you didn’t get to be president by junior year by being a pushover. At the very least, Alfred knew that if he did his part correctly, everything would go smoothly, because of course Kirkland would be on top of the class as usual.

Which was why it was surprising when, upon arriving to the student council office, Alfred found his baby abandoned under a pile of paperwork.

“I dunno what you were thinking, Michelle, but we do not fund hooligans!” Arthur was shouting, literally shaking his fist at the African exchange student. Alfred watched, jaw hanging open, still unable to process that his fake baby was alone crying in the trash, “I want you to re-do all the forms, and please don’t include any inappropriate clubs this time.” 

“Uh,” Alfred said, trying to interrupt Arthur’s rant, “Uh, Kirkland, can I--”

“And as for the rest of you,” Arthur said, getting up on a desk, attracting everyone’s attention in the room, “No more slacking off, these funds have to be turned in ON TIME THIS YEAR? DO YOU HEAR ME?! _ON TIME!!_ ” 

“Oh dear god, what the fuck,” Alfred whispered, watching his screeching ‘partner’. He waited until Arthur was done scolding his staff before approaching the president’s desk. 

“Hey, Kirkland…” Alfred began, “How are...you know--”

“Can I help you Jones?” Arthur muttered darkly, shuffling papers around his desk at random.

Alfred furrowed his brows, “Yeah, you can actually. Where exactly is our baby?” Arthur pointed wordlessly at the crying paper pile. “I thought so. Listen, when you said you’d take care of it, I thought you would actually...I don’t know, take care of it?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Arthur questioned, pointedly ignoring that their babies’ screaming had gotten louder. 

“You really need to ask?” Alfred said incredulously. 

Arthur, perhaps sensing that Alfred’s patience had just about run out, finally out down his various papers and looked the American in the eye.

“I apologize, Jones,” he said, President-of-the-Student-Council mask right back on his face. It was one of the things Alfred liked least about the British boy--at least the manic screaming and bossing around had been genuine. Too bad it came at the expense of Alfred’s grade. “Things are a bit hectic here at the moment. I offered to take Twinkle off your hands because I figured it was better than letting you stuff him in a locker.” 

“Apparently not! At least in the locker he--” suddenly, Alfred paused, as if something just occurred to him. “...Wait a minute. Did you say...Twinkle?”

“Well,” Arthur began, turning right back to his work, “I figured we needed to name the baby at some point.” 

“ _You cannot name a baby TWINKLE!"_ Alfred roared, stopping every Student Council member in their tracks, including Arthur.

Alfred quickly racked his brain, trying to think of everything anyone had ever told him about Arthur Kirkland. He could only remember people saying that he was dry, witty, and extremely intelligent. Some characterized him as a douche, but none of these things accounted for the fact that the Brit thought TWINKLE was an appropriate name for a child.

“Kirkland,” Alfred began, trying to calm himself down, “Look dude, I might not be the Virgin Mary over here, but even I know babies don’t like being abandoned under a pile of trash.” 

“He’s not abandoned! He’s being guarded by the fair--uh,” Kirkland quickly cut himself off, looking a little panicked. Alfred chose to leave it be, especially because what Kirkland almost said sounded suspiciously like ‘the fairies’, “Someone is looking after him the whole time. It’s good for children to just cry it out sometimes. No use coddling him.” 

“Kirkland, I cannot fail because of you!” Alfred exclaimed, getting angry again, “I can’t believe this, I thought this was going to be a piece of cake. I NEED an A in this class!” 

“Everything is going to be fine, Jones, stop your bloody screaming.” 

“I have to go home home with you,” Alfred said, no longer looking at Arthur, “I have to go to your house, and make sure you remember to feed the damn baby--”

“You are _not_ coming to my house--” 

“--because apparently you’re a lot more useless at this parenting thing than I--”

“--Oh, I’M useless?” Arthur interrupted, looking rather red, “You had no qualms sticking me with that thing when everyone knows I’m always busy after school!! But of course, how can I infringe on the great tradition of throwing a lopsided ball around with a bunch of brutes? Surely such ceremony is sacred!”

“IF I HAD KNOWN YOU’D STICK IT IN A PILE OF TRASH I WOULD HAVE TAKEN IT WITH ME,” Alfred yelled, losing his patience, “I refuse to watch this thing by my damn self, so you are going to learn some parenting instincts, so help me god!” 

\--------------

“We look so stupid,” Lovino muttered darkly, glaring openly at anyone who happened to glance at him, “We look like a pair of sister-wives.”

“I don’t think that’s what sister-wives means, Lovino,” Feliciano replied. He rocked his baby gently in his arms, willing it to sleep, and doing everything in his power to keep it quiet. Lovino stuffed his in his backpack, head sticking out just far enough to horrify bystanders. 

“Whatever.” Lovino said dismissively, and Feliciano figured that was that. 

The two were making their way over to Antonio’s house to inform him of the “good news”. Lovino looked so pale and shaken up at the prospect of speaking to Antonio that Feliciano immediately agreed to accompany him. Though the younger twin usually did not enjoy Lovino’s company when he was in a bad mood, he nevertheless wanted to support his brother as best he could. 

Besides, there wasn't anything better to do anyway. Ludwig had caught up to Feliciano after his practice, mumbled something about being unable to hang out, and dumped the baby unceremoniously into the Italian's arms. He supposed spending the afternoon with Lovino was a masterful way of taking his mind off the incident. 

“Do you think he’ll mind, taking care of this dumb thing with me?” Lovino finally asked, breaking the silence. Feliciano looked up at him in surprise. Lovino, in stark contrast to his usual facade, looked rather vulnerable; he was hunched over, looking as if he wanted to be swallowed into the ground - an effect exacerbated by the long and rather stringy brown hair covering his eyes. He was also pouting, a rather rare instance, and Feliciano was immediately struck by the urge to embrace his brother and never let go. 

“He’s going to love it!” Feliciano said with genuine enthusiasm, grasping at his brother’s shoulder, “He likes kids, and he likes you, fratello. You’re going to have so much fun!”

Lovino smiled a little. “Better than you and the potato, yeah?”

While normally Feliciano would protest, he merely nodded and beamed. Lovino, looking mollified, looked straight ahead, holding his head a little higher. 

Besides, there was perhaps a grain of truth to Lovino’s statement for once. Feliciano and Ludwig were normally best of friends, and they had been for three years. They got along extremely well, despite having completely different personalities, and Feliciano knew there was no one he held in higher esteem than Ludwig Beilschmidt. 

However, this relationship had recently been jeopardized when Ludwig began acting strangely distant and all around _odd_. For instance, he had begun to pull away from anyone who got too physically close to him, even Feliciano. The young Italian had always been affectionate, however; it was Ludwig who started reacting strangely in recent months. Feliciano was slightly bewildered by the change, but not entirely surprised. The behavior could be a manifestation of Ludwig’s closeted homosexuality, after all, and Feliciano didn’t want his already skittish friend to be put off by any confrontation. He’d come around, and when he did, Feliciano would be there for him. He just hoped Ludwig didn’t fall in love with him or something. 

His musings came to a swift end when they reached Antonio’s door at the end of the street. Lovino bounded up to the entrance, leaving Feliciano and his artificial spawn in the street. He knocked loudly on the thick oak door, knowing that Antonio’s parents were away for the week, leaving Antonio and his older sister home alone. 

When Antonio answered the door, Lovino’s hesitant smile completely disappeared from his face. The Spaniard looked awful; his normally fitted clothes hung off his body like rags, his hair looked like a nest, and worst of all, his normally tanned skin looked palid and clammy. Lovino tried not to look repulsed. 

“Ciao, Tony,” Lovino said, hoping the nickname Antonio liked so much would put the other boy into a better mood, “Look what I brought home! We got a little baby to take care of for the month, isn’t it cute?” He assumed Antonio already knew the gist of the assignment - it was an infamous part of Weston Academy’s history after all.

Antonio didn’t answer. Instead, he blinked dumbly at the doll Lovino waved in front of his face. 

Lovino frowned. “Tony, did you hear what I said? Look at this little robot. Hmm…” he leaned in closer to Antonio, wiggling the baby teasingly, “Robot. I like that. Rob! We should call him Rob,” he grimaced further when Antonio still remained unresponsive, “...Are listening to me?”

“Lovino, do you have to talk so loud?” Antonio finally said, not breaking his gaze away from Lovino’s baby, “I’m actually in the middle of my League game, and you’re breaking my concentration. Can we do this later?”

“Wow, someone’s got their panties in a bunch.” Lovino tried to joke, nudging Antonio with the baby. The baby did not appreciate it, as it started to whine. 

“Damn it, Lovino, I don’t feel well okay? Please don’t bug me!”

“Geez, fine,” Lovino replied, a bit taken aback,“me and the baby are going back to my house to eat some applesauce,” Antonio nodded rather despondently. “...with cinnamon.” he added hopefully. He was met with silence. “Okay, so I guess we’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Antonio courteously nodded then slammed his heavy oak door on Lovino’s face. Lovino turned to look back at his brother, and found he was wearing a matching expression of shock. 

“What the hell just happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so to clarify: Ludwig thinks Feliciano is having a gay crisis, Feliciano thinks Ludwig is having a gay crisis. Both are assumed straight. Shenanigans will ensue. 
> 
> ALSO. This fic is going to explore a concept that I think is really under appreciated in fandom - ditzy England. Even in stories where America is a super genius, England is always at least as intelligent as him, and often is more so. Which has no canonical background, mind you. Do you know what DOES have canonical background? England holds conferences in pubs (or at least wants to) and leaves his stove on like all the time. Does this sound like an intellectual to you? Or a comedic goldmine? 
> 
> (in reality I just want to subvert the 'England is super smart America is super athletic' high school trope, and try something else. Also please keep in mind that England is my fave and I do this with love).
> 
> Also Antonio is a gamer, you can't stop me, it happened.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to add:
> 
> A lot of my problem with updating is a lack of ideas, lack of inspiration, etc. Not a lot of people I know are into Hetalia, so I often have issues bouncing my ideas around. If yoooou are interested in hearing me rant at you about future fic ideas and stuff, lemme know (I can return the favor, hopefully), I'm available somewhat regularly ;)
> 
> As usual, constructive crit. is welcome! Thank you!


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